


through a lion's cage

by nepharial



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Butcher!Neil, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Slow Burn, at least a little??, i mean its andreil so, i succ at tagging, neil escapes much later, prob lots of edgy shit to come, the foxes pick him up right after mary dies, yanno its tfc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepharial/pseuds/nepharial
Summary: Nathaniel Wesninski does not escape his father's claws until he is sixteen.By then, he is already broken and bloody and glassy-eyed with exposure to being the Butcher's son.When he and his mother are caught a mere two years after escape, Neil is almost killed.He stumbles away with his life after barely managing to escape, and is picked up by the Palmetto Foxes driving back from their last game. Neil Josten boards the bus with them and drives off down an entirely new path.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> lmao im so bad at summaries fuck  
> so hi there !! welcome to my first aftg fic, and my second piece of writing on this site (deleted my first cringey thing oops)  
> i love neil and andrew with all my soul and aus are my fav thing so here u go an angsty butcher's son neil thrown onto an unsuspecting lot of foxes. the title is from the song lion's den by jhameel btw, u should go check it out!! the lyrics are angsty as heck its magical  
> hope u enjoy!!!! lets get on with this mess of a story!!!!

****Neil stumbled away from the car as fast as he could, knowing that Lola was occupied with the flames and Romero was most likely the one occupied with trying not to crash. His legs screamed at him in pain, his head was fuzzy and he could feel his cheek alight with the agony that the dashboard lighter had brought.

But his footsteps didn't pause and desperation fueled his need to get away. It was long before Neil thought it maybe safe enough to slow down; he was ambling past a gas station, barely conscious on his feet as he staggered behind the building and leaned against a few water tanks.

He desperately struggled to stay awake, but the pain from the cuts on his body and the woozy state of his head - a concussion, Neil recognised - were making it hard for him.

Neil wanted to let go. He wanted it all to stop. _Don't look back._

He looked back at the gas station. That was when he felt his head slide down and his consciousness slip out of his shaking grasp.

 

* * *

 

When he woke again, he was immediately up and scrabbling at the wall for a door. Neil found a locked one and, knowing it could lead to a possible bathroom, quickly found a rock nearby and launched all his strength at it.

Considering his state, it was laughable that the rusty lock cracked and dropped onto the ground. His still blood-stained hands gripped the door handle and whipped it open to reveal a cramped, grimey bathroom. Neil fell in and tugged the door shut, quickly locking it behind him. It felt like a cage, but a safe one.

He fumbled the tap and grabbed a few paper towels from beside the sink. Their hygiene was questionable, but he needed to clean the blood and sweat off himself as best as he could. Neil was alone and injured and quite possibly wouldn't live to see a shower ever again.

After he had wiped most of the dried blood off his person and squeezed the visible traces of ash off his hair and clothes, he peeled his clothes back to inspect his cuts. Neil winced at the sight of the long, still bleeding slashes all over his thighs, back, chest and arms. That, accompanied with multiple burns, made him want to cry.

Taking a deep breath, Neil dampened a paper towel and started cleaning the wounds as best as he could. He then slipped his clothes on, disposed of the red-stained remnants of his pit stop and stepped back out into the chilly twilight.

He needed medical attention and money. Neil stumbled away from the gas station, thanking the universe for ensuring that no cars were around to possibly see him. He could see streets further down the road, and once he finally reached the lane of residential houses Neil crouched behind a bush and tried to curl himself up as small as possible.

The fatigue from the day washed over him. Had it been a day? More? Neil tested the soreness of his muscles and guessed his mother's death had happened the day before. Thinking of his mother brought a fresh sense of grief up to clog his already questionable cognitive processes, so he shut his brain down and allowed himself to doze off.

A small snap of a gate closing jerked Neil awake. He blinked groggily and stared out of the prickly foliage of his temporary shelter. A businessman was closing the gate behind him and walking down to an Audi parked down the street.

Neil studied the man's posture and the state of his hair, hoping that the man lived alone. Because he had quickly decided to break in and make use of the household items before leaving again.

He hauled himself up once the Audi had raced around the street corner, and quickly made his way to the back of the house. Casting a quick glance around and drawing his hoodie close over his face, Neil located a low placed window and fiddled at the hatch. It sprung open easily.

Wanting to tsk at the house owner's lacklustre security keeping, Neil slid the window open and climbed in as agilely as he could. He stepped quietly over the carpet, deciding to leave the window open for a speedy escape if needed. He paused at the door, studying the room. He seemed to be in an empty bedroom.

Neil held an ear close to the door, and hearing nothing, slowly pushed it open. His steps were quick as he made his way down a flight of stairs and veered off to the kitchen. Neil knew several people kept spare cash around where they kept their keys and wallets and other knick knacks, and as expected, a woman's wallet was lying around.

An absent lover? Relative? Not caring, Neil took all the cash in it and placed it back where he'd found it. Then he made his way upstairs again for the bathroom. He had been pushing his pain to the back of his mind in order to work on autopilot, but after digging through medical cabinets and drudging up an acceptable first aid kit, it all came rushing back to his frayed nerves.

Neil bit back a keen of pain and quickly slid out bandages, sterilizing pads and painkillers. Swallowing two pills dry, he peeled his dirty clothes off to wipe himself down with the cleansing pads. After his wounds seemed clean enough, he quickly unscrewed ointment and dabbed them on his burns as best as he could.

He winced when he touched his cheek, but bit it back and placed the ointment back. Then Neil unrolled the bandages and quickly started wrapping and taping them securely over his wounds. His hands were unsteady and not as accurate as the practised precision of his mother's, but it was good enough. He had, unfortunately, not found a needle and threat for some much needed stitches.

Replacing the medical kit and checking the bathroom for any signs of use, Neil stepped out again.

The only traces of his presence left behind would be the missing notes from the wallet. Neil hesitated, wanting to check for food as well, but he was on edge and felt like he'd dawdled long enough. He had no idea if there were other tenants in the household and when they would return, and stolen food was easily more noticable than money.

So Neil climbed out of the window and slid it shut, before heading off again. He no longer knew where he was going, what he was doing, only that he couldn't stop moving.

 

* * *

 

It had been weeks. Or maybe only days. Neil didn't know, only that he had last cleaned and redone his wounds a long time ago. He knew he needed help, but couldn't bring himself to plan up a solution when so much of his mental strength was focused on not collapsing.

He was on the side of a long road. Neil had left behind the suburban bustle of Newport long ago, and had been hitchhiking and walking away from his past as fast as he could. But he could only run for so long, when he was so tired, and his health was finally beginning to fail him.

Breathing was becoming hard when every movement sent panging stabs through his chest. All his cuts throbbed, and his head was pounding even worse behind his sore temple. Neil had thrown up a few miles back, but his pace had now considerably slowed and so had the speed of his thoughts.

He finally stumbled to a stop next to a stray wooden pole against the trodden grassy side of the road. Maybe the pole had once been a lamp post, a bridge of electric urbanisation, or a misplaced stick from a giant.

Neil frowned at himself. His brain was getting more and more increasingly derailed from the issues at hand. He slid down against the pole, trying to gather what little breath he could and focus on a plan.

He couldn't stop. Especially not here. He was too open, too weak, too -

Too _tired_. Neil closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to rid them of their stinging dryness. But the exhaustion of his physical injuries and his mental strain made it impossible to open them again. As he felt himself losing to the draw of sleep, Neil placed a hand over his hoodie where he kept a stolen knife.

He hoped he could perhaps fight his way through one more day on the calendar.

When Neil woke again, it was once more to an intruding presence. There was a tall man near him, the hulking figure of a large vehicle on the road. Neil didn't stop to think; he was up on shaking legs immediately with a steady hand clasped around a knife.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he rasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so theres that???? a cliffhanger????? welcome to the Unoriginal™ tropes show  
> also i dont have a beta so yikes,, @ me with the mistakes pls haha
> 
> edit: oK so your local dumbass here is not american and didn't realise seattle was on the whole other side of the country ,,, and that no sane exy team would be caught trekking that far away from home land,,, smh this is why i need someone to hold me back  
> so ive changed the scene of marys death to newport, random city in arkansas idk, which is closer to south carolina. oops??? ah well clap ur hands for more canon divergence ayy


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bit of a short update, hope u enjoy!!

“Whoa, calm down now,” said the man. Neil tried to focus his gaze to read his expression, but his vision was blurry and his arms trembling and god he was terrified. Nathan’s men surely couldn’t have found him again so quickly? He had barely left traces of his presence behind anywhere, too tired and anxious to sleep somewhere for longer than one night.

At least he had a weapon. The disgust and fear that came with handling knives had buried themselves somewhere deep, along with Neil's grief and guilt and pain. He was in survival mode when he slashed at the man who had dared to move forward once more.

“I said get away from me,” Neil spat at him.

“Okay, okay! Look. You're injured. I'll take you to the nearest hospital, you need—”

“No! You're not taking me anywhere.” Neil cut him off, panic threatening to break through his already shaky resistance.

The man held up two hands placatingly, empty palms faced at Neil. It was like he was approaching a wounded animal. “I get it. At least come with us for a little while. I'm not leaving you here to die.”

“What makes you think I'm going to die?” Neil retorted, trying to put a bit of strength in his voice. He spectacularly failed.

The man snorted. “You look like death, kid. It's not hard to guess. Come on, let's put that knife away and get on the bus now.”

Neil finally dragged his gaze away over to the white and orange vehicle sliding in and out of focus behind the man. He squinted until he could make out a line of faces from behind the bus's windows, and then he was straining his eyes to read the writing on the side of the painted vessel.

All the breath got knocked out of Neil. _No. No. **No.**_

He didn't realise he was saying it aloud, frantic and quiet and trembling, as he spun away and grasped his hair between his sore hands. Ignoring the pain Neil tugged hard, hoping the stabbing sensations would anchor his panic.

There was a bus from an Exy team waiting for him to get on it. His mother's harsh warnings filtered through his mind rapidly and his head urged him to run away, now. But something in Neil was drawn to the bus and what it offered. Exy. The one part of his life that made it worth living.

It was pathetic. God, if such a cruel being existed, obviously gained some amusement from placing Neil's biggest weakness right in front of him on a silver platter. It was self-destruction at its finest.

“You're not okay,” the man said urgently, looking like he was trying not to approach Neil again. “Get on the bus.”

Neil wanted to scream at him. _No! I can't, I can't, I can't—_

But then a louder mantra from his mother pushed through. Words that were ingrained into his being, words that Neil had lived by his whole life. They were more familiar than even the feel of a racquet in his hands. _Survive. Do what you can to survive._

He could either relinquesh and get on the bus with several possible threats, and let them drive him wherever they wished. Or Neil could, in fact, bleed out on the side of the road.

It was obvious which choice to take. Or at least he told himself so, as Neil finally nodded and started stumbling to the bus entrance. The man held out a hand a few inches away from Neil's approach.

“Put the knife away,” the man said, voice flat and unmoving.

But Neil's only talent had always been moving. “If I'm getting on your territory, I'm doing it on my terms. The knife stays.”

The man's face twisted, as if being blackmailed to letting a vagabond onto his bus with the vagabond's own life, by the said vagabond, was just something he had not signed up for that day. But he acquiesced without much more and followed Neil onto the bus.

Neil paused, feeling several eyes on him. His eyes were working up even worse than before, the edges of his vision tinted with vignette, as he dragged his gaze around the faces. They were all young adults, expressions unclear but from the tension in the room most likely not friendly. Neil wanted to jump right out of the window again.

But then the man's presence, a dark hulking thing, was pressing against his back and Neil jerked forward with a choked gasp to immediately escape it. He moved quickly down the aisle, hoping it would play off his sudden push into movement, and slid onto an empty seat halfway down the bus.

He wanted to move all the way to the back just so he could keep everyone in his line of sight, but Neil's legs were failing him and he'd rather sit first than collapse in front of all of these people. He drew his knees up to his burning chest and tucked himself against the side of the bus, angled so his back was firmly covered. Neil gripped his knife tightly and prepared to wait out the trip.

It was long and arduous. He could feel the tension on the vehicle like a heavy blanket itching at his foraying consciousness. The slow rumble of the engine, the weight of stares and quiet whispers, all grated away at his nerves. Neil wanted to sleep so, so bad but his mother would slap him if he left himself vulnerable in such an enclosed place.

It felt like cities had risen and fallen before the bus rolled to a stop. Neil was desperately hanging onto the waking world with both hands, and he could feel himself reacting slower to normal muscle movements as he pushed himself up and followed the last Exy player out of the bus.

Neil immediately paused on the last step when he saw all the attention focused on him, like individual laser beams tearing into his scarred skin. He drew his shoulders up and his hand itched for the gun his mother had made him keep on his belt in certain countries.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” a female voice finally said. Neil swivelled his attention to where it had come from — his vision was now alternating between blurry darkness and outlines of images.

“No,” he rasped out quickly. He was assuredly certain that getting hauled to a hospital would kill him faster than any set of cuts would. “I'd rather bleed out.” 

“Why don't we let him?” someone said boredly from the side. Voices rose in angered dissent, and Neil soon lost track of the conversation. He knew they were talking about him, but he was trying his best to not fall asleep on his feet right there and not much else mattered at the moment.

“Hey? You?” Neil barely heard the uttered words, let alone had the wherewithal to acknowledge them, but when he felt someone approach he recoiled like whiplash. There was a pause. “Okay, actions speak more than words, I see. So, we're going to take you to our team's nurse. She'll be able to treat you. Is that alright?”

Neil stared at the speaker, vaguely seeing a young man with dark skin and a mass of curls. He finally found his tongue and mumbled, “Her name?”

“Abby Winfield,” came the proud reply.

Neil scrounged around his memory, knowing his Exy-obsessed brain would probably be able to place the name with a face. And when he did, Neil sucked in a sharp breath and it stayed stuck in his chest.

He was with the Palmetto Foxes, out of all the goddamn teams in the state.

Neil wanted to run away again, but held himself still as a statue. That was always his second instinct, after the deep-rooted call to flee. Stay still, don’t make a sound, evaluate. So he quietly looked around the gathered faces, and fear lent strength to his fading vision.

He focused on the nonplussed face of Kevin Day, and was almost confused when he only saw irritation there. Did Kevin not recognise Neil?

The thought made him immediately sag and start breathing again. Neil probably wouldn't be recognisable to anyone, as beat up and dirty-looking as he was. He nodded his assent at the first one who had spoken to him and said, “Okay. Where does she live.”

“Andrew, drive him there,” the man who had peeled Neil off the side of the road said.

“And get blood all over my upholstery? No, thank you very much. Nicky can drag him there.”

“Andrew.” The man's voice held no room for argument. “Take him there or I'm banning cigarettes until you win that ten kilometre marathon they're holding up town.”

“Hm, let's see now,” said the one apparently called Andrew. Neil was a little too out of it to keep track of names. “No. What else would I get from this?”

“Andrew—”

“Just do it.” Kevin spoke for the first time. “He'll need to stay at Abby's for a bit anyway.”

There was a displeased cluck of the tongue, then an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

Neil felt a hand approach him and immediately brought his knife up, blade extended out in the perfect position to strike; the hand parried the sharp edge of the knife away expertly and grabbed his wrist. “Look's like you're mine for the night, roadkill.”

Neil managed an empty grin at that. He was suddenly reminded of all the whispers from Lola trickling into his ear, promising pain and rewards and punishment later. _It'll be so much fun, Junior. I'm looking forward to it._

“It wouldn't be the first time,” Neil breathed out, before everything hit him at once and he couldn't stop himself from blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorr y everyone neils still too tired to properly meet the foxes lmao ,,, also wow im so bad at moving along the plot. pls tell me if u think the pace needs picking up!!  
> and yes, i have once again ended the segment with neil blacking out. when will ur faves ever be as Creative™??
> 
> ive actually gotten up to 12k written so hopefully that'll be pumped out soon! thank you for all the kind feedback so far <3


	3. Chapter 3

Consciousness didn't treat him kindly when it beckoned for him again with a rough hand. Neil struggled against the pull of his mind, like a body rising to the surface of a sea, until he finally broke the seal and opened his eyes.

He was in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed, with the unfamiliar scent of faint lavendar and ointment tainting the air. Neil dragged himself upright, ignoring the telltale twitches on his body letting him know about new stitches. He froze at the evidence that someone had unclothed and dressed his wounds, but then pushed away the implications.

He would leave soon. It didn't matter if some of them saw how badly he had been cut up; they didn't know his name, they barely knew his face what with its patchwork of charred skin and stinging slashes. Neil placed a hand on the mattress to push himself up, noting the clean bandages wrapped around his palm and fingers.

Must have been the work of this Abby Winfield, he surmised. He stood on his sore feet with a slight sway, concentrating on not throwing up. Nausea and exhaustion dragged at his senses again, and Neil pursed his lips in annoyance. But he had to leave. He was too exposed here, he didn't know these people. Kevin's presence alone was a threat to his precarious safety.

So he slipped out of the room, trying his best to keep his steps silent. Neil drifted down the hallway, keeping his ears perked for any sign of another presence. When he reached the entrance to the kitchen, he paused. There was a tired-looking woman sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping a mug of coffee as she whispered with the tall man who'd picked Neil up.

David Wymack, the name came swimming to the forefront of Neil's mind. He bit his lip, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment — much less the people who had touched him while he was unconscious — but swallowed his unease and locked it down with the rest of his tumultuous emotions.

He edged into the kitchen, uptight and tense as both of the adults' attention snapped to him. He paused under the scrutiny, before carefully approaching again. “Hello. I’d like to thank you for your help.”

The words of gratitude tasted wrong on his tongue; Neil hardly ever had cause to thank anyone.

“It was the least we could do,” Abby said, already rising from her stool with a concerned look on her face as she regarded his torso. Neil cringed away from her searching gaze, hating that she knew what he looked like underneath. Damaged.

“You didn't have to,” Neil replied immediately, keeping his tone even and polite. “I was doing quite fine. I would've reached the next town soon enough, and gotten treatment there.”

“Luckily you met us, and got free help anyway,” Wymack pointed out gruffly.

Neil frowned. “I don't believe in luck. Anyway, I'll have to get going soon, I'm sorry for intru—”

“What?” Abby was alarmed. “You're injured! Your concussion needs time to heal, and it'll be weeks before you can take your stitches out. Stay here; I'll be able to help you from close by.”

Neil didn't like the sound of that. Staying in one spot and trusting his wellbeing to another person caused all the red alerts in his head to go off. Deflecting offers of help was nothing new for him, so he pasted a fake smile on his face and said, “Thank you for the offer, but I already feel a lot better. My parents will start to worry.”

A snort came from Wymack. “Doubt it, if they let you get into this state in the first place.”

Neil was silent for a moment, deciding not to say that his father could do a lot worse than what a few stitches and ointment could fix. He swallowed his burning words, burying them deep within his roiling stomach, and shrugged. “Not really. I'm out of the house often, no big deal.”

“Where do you live? You were somewhere around Nashville when we found you,” Wymack said carefully.

Neil was somehow vaguely impressed at himself for moving across an entire state as injured as he was. “Well, I do live nearby. Memphis,” he said, drawing upon a nearby town that he and his mother had once briefly stopped at. Long enough for him to provide background information to solidify his story, at least.

“Oh, that's pretty far from where we found you,” Abby said, sounding surprised. “Were you—?”

Neil shrugged and said, as casual as possible, “Was seeing a relative. Something happened, and I had to try walking back. It's a long story.”

Abby looked like she wanted to press him about it, concern leaking out of every line in her face, but Wymack placed a hand on her shoulder and simply nodded at Neil. “Okay.” Neil guessed this man was used to the rougher parts of life, and a vague story to sum up what looked like criminal levels of violence was probably something he could accept without need of a drink. Neil found this incredibly damning for the man's credibility, and for the Foxes as well. How many of the other rumours were true then?

“Okay,” he repeated warily. “Either way, I really have to go back soon.”

“Not until you're all patched up,” Abby argued. “You don't seem to have any money on you. You can use our telephone to call home, but I'm not letting you wander the streets with your skin barely held together.”

Neil thought it wasn't as bad as she made it sound, and was unimpressed at the dramatic declarations of someone who should be used to brutal injuries by now. But he didn't say this, knowing that to downplay his condition would raise alarms for the sheltered adults currently in the room with him.

“I'll stay for a few days then,” Neil agreed reluctantly.

“A few weeks,” Abby argued.

"One week." Neil's voice was hard and final.

Abby and Wymack exchanged a look at this which Neil followed carefully with his eyes, and he didn't relax his posture even when they both seemed to accept this with a sigh. He turned and made to leave, although Abby's voice stopped him again.

“I can make you breakfast. You look starved.”

Neil scrunched his lip at the thought of eating food a stranger made for him, but he smoothed his expression out before turning around again. “That would be nice.”

He couldn't bring himself to say thank you once more, but the woman nodded readily at his words like they were enough. As she moved to the pantry, pulling out ingredients for a quick meal, Wymack rose from his chair and stretched a little. The man yawned and traipsed across the living room, snatching keys off the coffee table and glancing back at Neil.

“I'll be going off then,” he said after a moment. Neil didn't know what he wanted in reply, so he just nodded. Wymack studied him for a second longer, before turning and walking out of the house.

Neil watched the man go, deciding to keep an eye on him whenever he came close. Wymack looked strong and used to violence, and near his father's age. All little things that made his hackles rise. Even nosy, soft-headed Abby didn't rub him the wrong quite the same way as Wymack did.

When the nurse returned with a plate of pancakes in her hand, Neil steeled himself and plastered an agreeable smile on his face. Time to lie his way back onto the streets.

 

* * *

  

“The team's coming over for a last-minute dinner before they all leave for vacation, by the way,” Abby mentioned to him offhandedly a day later while she was cleaning the kitchen tiles. Neil froze where he was sitting on the couch reading a novel he'd picked up off the shelves, then forced himself to relax.

“Okay,” was all he said. He wondered why they were all leaving for vacation so early after their last game, then decided that he would be glad to get out of the hellhole Palmetto State as quickly as he could as well.

Abby paused in her cleaning and raised her head, face poorly concealing her concern. “Do you need some space? I can bring dinner up to you early.”

Neil desperately wanted to take her up on her offer, but something in him tugged at the need to at least appear socially adept. Besides, he didn't want them to think he was scared or ashamed. Getting hurt was a part of Neil's life at this point, and he sure wasn't going to shy away from a meeting just because they'd found him when he was all banged up. It went against every shred of dominating ferocity that the Butcher had slashed into him. Neil wanted to ignore his father's lessons, move past them and start anew, but the sliding tone of his father's mocking voice still haunted his ears. _Scared, Nathaniel? The son of the Butcher should not be scared of anything. How about I show you something that will_ really _terrify you, hm?_

“I'm fine,” Neil finally replied. His voice was steady enough for Abby to sigh and turn back to her work, but his shaking hands were hidden under the angle of his book.

He busied himself with burning through Abby's entire living room shelf, until he wandered outside and considered weeding the garden for her. Neil knew she'd scold him and force him back in the house if she caught him doing manual labour, however, so he sighed and went back inside.

Deciding to put his boredom to use, Neil grabbed a paper and pen from the room that was furnished as a study and settled on the couch once more. He started writing formulas out on the sheet, scribbling bits of mathematical trivia and furling random equations for himself as he worked. Neil didn't like schoolwork, but maths was something he could strangely get behind. Methodical, practical, unchanging. He wished his life could be more like that.

The loud voices and sound of doors slamming clued Neil in to the Foxes' arrival. His hands froze over his paper, and he was keyed up and mentally running through all the exits in the house. He stashed the paper full of numbers away, not willing to let anyone see a true piece of him, and picked up his novel again to flip it open at a random page. Neil relaxed into position just on time, hearing them all roll into the living room in the direction of the dining table. He felt eyes on him as the mass of rowdy players quietened to inspect him.

Neil raised his eyes to meet theirs, and quirked an eyebrow up while his face was kept blank. “Next exhibit, move along.”

None of them seemed to know how to react to that, until one guy broke the silence and grinned wildly at him. “Hi! Nice to meet you again! I'm Nicky.”

Neil studied him, recognising the smooth skin and wild curls for the person who had referred him to Abby's place. He nodded and went back to his book, deciding to ignore them all until they went away. Like he did with most of his emotions.

One player scoffed and pushed to the kitchen. Neil didn't look up, but he felt the Foxes gradually spreading around the house while a few broke off to help Abby make the food. He pretended he didn't care, that he barely noticed them, until someone's presence strayed too close and he had to shut his book closed again.

Neil looked up into the face of one of the Minyard twins. He couldn't tell from searching his blank face which twin it was, so he let his eyes drop to the forearms. Neil recognised Andrew’s signature black wristbands and looked up with all his wits gathered around him like a shield. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Andrew replied, simple and bored. “Who are you?”

A few of the Foxes had paused chatting to regard them. Neil wanted to snarl at them; none had dared to dip their toes in conversation with him, but would gladly jump on the train to observe when another volunteered. Humans were so predictably irritating at times.

It almost made Neil consider answering in a foreign language just to mess with them all, but he sighed and let an answer slide out in his usual American accent. “Nothing,” he said, voice just as simple and bored as Andrew's. It was a rare truth, one that he didn't think needed any expanding on, which he was almost grateful for. Spinning lies was a hard thing to maintain when he would be gone in a week.

Andrew tsked. “Try again. Who are you?”

“Someone who will be gone in a week. No need to worry your little head about it,” Neil said with a shrug.

“You're one to be talking about little things. How did you get your ouchies, for instance?”

“Bad parenting,” Neil replied easily, giving a sharp grin when someone inhaled sharply from the side. Weren't the Foxes meant to be acclimatised to violence, even from the worst of places?

Andrew leaned forward slightly, enough to get Neil to tense up. “Those don't look like the typical bruises,” he mused. “Unless your parents are a pair of scissors. Unfortunately, you're not staying here if that's so.”

“What can you do about it?” Neil challenged him.

“A lot of things, you'll find.” Andrew let a hand trace down to his forearm, and Neil's gaze sharpened on that movement.

“You're an idiot if you think you're the only one here who can make those kind of threats,” Neil replied in a calm tone, pressing his hand briefly to his torso where he kept a switchblade strapped. He had stolen the weapon soon after Newport, and had easily relocated it again after digging through Abby's house. It seemed like they hadn’t thrown it away, and the naivety had momentarily surprised Neil.

“Oh, you shouldn't admit to things like that here,” Andrew said, a mocking grin curving his features into a ghastly portrait. “You'll be labelled a monster.”

Neil let both his eyebrows lift slightly at that. These people would call him a monster for carrying a knife? Just carrying it? He had to withold a contemptuous scoff, and shrugged. “I'll take safety over the good opinion of others any day, thanks. What do you want from me?”

Andrew studied him for a moment longer, then turned away. “I'll figure you out later.”

Neil frowned at the wording, but was too relieved about finally being left alone to call after the goalkeeper. The rest of the Foxes were slightly subdued after this, and suddenly Neil didn't think his temper could hold him up in this situation. He wanted out. Neil hated to look like he was fleeing after that irritating back-and-forth with Andrew, but he knew it would be taken as so if he were to leave.

But his earlier words drifted back to him, and he decided that his mental stability over good opinions was as important as anything. Neil rose from his seat and turned for the back door, slipping out easily. There was nobody around, and from what few he had seen from the Foxes so far, they were a pathetic team of misfits that the world condemned far too quickly. They wouldn't notice.

Neil scoffed to himself as he hit the pavement at a steady pace. A run would loosen him up, quiet his mind, nevermind his aching wounds and meticulous bandaging. If he was going to stick around a trained medic for a week, he would put some goddamn use to it. Even if it was merely for constant redressings.

 

* * *

  

When Neil returned to Abby's place that night, he entered the living room to Wymack and Abby deep in discussion. Abby immediately rose at the sight of him, her face scrunched in worry as she approached him quickly. “Oh, Neil! Why did you leave, you need to eat and take care of your stitches—”

But Neil took a step back from her advance, and she stuttered to a stop with that expression still on her face. When she made to speak again, he interrupted firmly, “Drop it. I know my limits. And I'm not hungry, your lovely team satiated any physical craving I might've once had.”

Abby looked pained. “They're good kids, Neil, don't be so quick to judge.”

Neil had to sigh at that. “That's the problem.” When Abby only looked confused, he waved her whole presence off and started for his place in the spare bedroom. “Forget it. Goodnight.”

Abby backed away from him, but Wymack followed him down the corridor. Neil immediately tensed himself at being in such close quarters with the older man, and kept all his senses attuned for any sign of movement. Wymack paused too, then said evenly, “Come to the study. I want to talk to you about something.”

Neil, unwilling to move back to let Wymack push by him, made his way to the study in front of the man. He entered the room and quickly sat in the chair in front of the desk, while Wymack closed the door and slid into place on the office chair. They regarded each other, Neil carefully unemotional, while Wymack looking like he was searching for something.

Apparently unable to find it, Wymack leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Andrew and his little groupies are moving into Abby's place tomorrow. They're staying here for the holidays.”

Neil immediately saw where this was going. “I don't want to be in proximity with them for that long. I'll move out tonight.”

Wymack looked mildly alarmed. “What the fuck, no. You can stay at my place for the time being. It's not a pretty sight, not the way Abby's nice house is, but I hope my humble abode will meet your standards.”

“Your bachelor pad?” Neil corrected, unimpressed. He was suspicious of the man immediately. Why was he so quick to offer a complete stranger entrance to his home? In Neil's experience, eager and welcoming men were quick to eagerly welcome _other_ things later on.

Wymack snorted at that. “Suppose so. You have anything to say about that?”

Neil decided he would take a possible predator over a definite predator any day. Although maybe predator was the wrong term to describe Andrew; he was a threat. “No, I don't. Thank you.”

Wymack nodded, but before Neil could rise to leave, he said quickly, “Wait. I also want to ask you if you'd like to stay longer, maybe enrol at Palmetto State.”

Neil immediately grew warier as he stared blankly at the coach across the desk. Now Wymack's generosity was bordering on seriously concerning. Why would he offer tuition? He couldn't possibly know about Neil's current homelessness. “Why?”

Wymack's gaze was steady and knowing. “It's obvious to anyone with two working eyes that you have problems at home, kid. Not sure if you even go to school, but if you do, I promise you Palmetto would be safer.”

Neil bared his teeth at the man. “You can't guarantee that. I mean, it's where Andrew goes, after all.”

Making a grimaced expression that showed he somewhat agreed, Wymack continued. “Even so. If you work hard, I'm sure you'll make it onto the Exy team. Then we can offer you a full scholarship, all neat and tidy, and the school board won't question it. You have the summer to work on it, and—”

Neil cut in, a habit that had been really picking up these past few days around the Foxes. “I'm not interested in playing for you. You don't have the right to offer me something like this, and you don't have the right to assume things about my home life.”

Wymack just shrugged. “I'll do what I can to ensure another person's safety, especially if you're under my jurisdiction for however long. If you won't play for us — do you know about Exy?”

“A thing or two,” Neil replied cautiously.

“Good enough for me. Want to become my assistant coach?”

The offer stunned him beyond the measure of the rest. Neil couldn't quite keep his stare blank enough, and Wymack smiled wryly at the suspicion coiling minutely through his features. “Yeah, we're a ragtag bunch. But I promise they’ll be easy to manage. Just help me finalise game times, venues, bus routes and tickets. That sort of thing.”

Neil contemplated it, but the temptation of being so near Exy yet unable to play it sounded unbearable. “I’m not sure I’m the right fit for that sort of job.”

“There’s no _fit_ for an assistant coach.” Wymack snorted. “You’d be more of a manager, anyway. How does it sound?”

“Not worth it.”

“I can pay you.”

Neil hated bing bribed, but he didn’t deny that he was cut off from most of his mother’s contacts and secret stashes. The few million that his mother had stolen when they’d ran had burned with her, and it would be a while before he could come across any new funds, especially from Palmetto State. He considered his father, stewing in a prison somewhere near Arkansas, and the Moriyamas, who hadn’t ever paid him much attention. In all his years of doing the Butcher’s dirty work, he’d never even met anyone from the Exy-oriented branch family. When Mary ran with their money, the Butcher went after him, not any of the Moriyamas’ men. Weighing this in his mind, Neil made a decision. “How much?”

Wymack seemed to think about it for a moment. “Hundred bucks a day?”

Neil raised an eyebrow. It was decent, but he could get the same pay with a less taxing job. “Raise it to two hundred and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“One hundred and fifty.”

“One hundred and seventy five, I’m not going down any more.”

“Stingy little fucker. Alright then, one seventy five.”

Neil hesitated, only for a second, before flipping his cool mask back on. “I’m not all too interested in academics. Get the board to drop my mandatory subjects to three classes.”

Wymack looked incredulous. “Neil, what the fuck? You’re not going to college just to be a damn dropout, that defeats the whole damn purpose. Most athletes only take—”

“I’m not an athlete, or a normally enrolled student,” Neil pointed out. “I went to a public middle school, then started getting homeschooled. I’m not behind on any subject, but I’m not interested in any either.”

“Great as you must be, kid, you’re not that special. The school board would never let you.”

“Then I guess it’s adios,” Neil said with a wry grin. He had said the adios in a perfect accent, but he hoped Wymack hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t sure why Wymack was so adamant on keeping Neil here, enough to be considering his ridiculous requests, but he decided he’d milk it for all it was worth.

“I’ll discuss it with them,” Wymack said eventually. “Gonna have to tell some tall — or, maybe in your case, not so tall — lies to get them to agree. You’re really asking for things beyond my paygrade.” The man leaned back in his squeaky chair with a drawn-out sigh, a sound Neil had been hearing a lot more often when the team was around.

Neil could only shrug again. He didn’t particularly want to be here, knowing how unsafe it was for him, but Wymack seemed to have some saviour complex that made it hard for the man to let him go back to a possibly unhealthy home. It wasn’t his fault that the coach should know better. “Also, if you want some quality hotels for the prices we’re going to get, I’m going to have to fly out sometimes. To scout the surrounding areas.”

Wymack blinked, then stared hard at him. “Hm. You’re suddenly all aboard this manager thing, huh?”

Neil looked back at him innocently. “Hey, if I’m going to get paid for this, I’m going to do a good job of it. Good use of my free periods, isn’t it?”

“You have a passport?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, thinking about the hidden passports in the brickwork of a nearby house. He’d have to hike over the South Carolina border to reach it, but there was about twenty thousand dollars stored away there that would come in handy. “Don't think I'll need it, though. What are the chances of any game being an international flight?”

Wymack was silently contemplating, staring hard at Neil like he could see underneath all the layers. Neil stared back calmly, assured in the fact that his mask was one that few could break. Much less a rough old coach from the last team in the Class I league.

“Sure. Fly out whenever you need. I'll pay for your tickets.”

Neil blinked for a moment at the fast agreement, before saying, “That won’t be necessary.” He didn’t want Wymack to know the locations and times of where he would go.

“Is that everything?”

“Yes,” Neil said slowly after thinking about it. Wymack nodded and swivelled slightly in his chair to reach out for the phone, raising a hand to shoo lazily at Neil.

“Good. Fuck off now.”

Neil's lips quirked in a small smirk, before he wiped it away quickly and rose from his chair at last. He left the office feeling slightly uneasy. The promises Wymack had offered to him swam around his head in dizzying orbits; promises of a home, safety, an education, perhaps even a place on a team. It was too much. So he locked it all down and focused on getting back to his room instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two 1.4 k word chapters and then BOOM suddenly a fucking 4k long one. im an erratic trashcan sorry,,  
> do u prefer the short or longer chapters tho??  
> ALSO I PROMISE THE FOXES WILL PROPERLY REACT TO NEIL SOON !!! i just didnt want to bother writing the senior foxes when they’re abt to graduate and never be seen again?? oops yes i am lazy
> 
> also i have exams next week so probably won't update for a while !! as always thank you for all the kudos and comments <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for waiting for the update ily all !!!  
> finished my math exam today and although i have more exams, maths the only one i rly care about lmao  
> enjoy <3

Considering how condensed the population at Palmetto State was, Neil prided himself at how well he managed to avoid all human contact. He had busied himself with reviewing the curriculum for subjects he wouldn’t mind spending time on, and had taken to running morning laps around campus in order to memorise a map of the place with all the exits marked.

He ignored the looks Wymack sent his way every time he rose early enough to see the coach making coffee. Neil woke up automatically around 5 am, and at first he had been surprised Wymack did as well. Avoiding eyes and trying to look like he had slept for more than three hours, Neil had abandoned the apartment and ran out to start his laps immediately. He acted more normal around the coach’s presence now, but still hated letting his weakness be seen.

Neil had stopped going to Abby’s place as well. Knowing Andrew and the others were there, as well as the nurse herself, Neil would really prefer not to run into any of them. He knew how to treat his stitches and burns on his own, so after one visit in the early morning to pick up supplies he had avoided the place like the plague.

When Neil’s map of Palmetto had been completed for all but one place, he considered the outside of the Exy stadium cautiously. He had even broken into Fox Tower in order to memorise the layout of the dorms and fire exits and doorways and window heights, and his borderline paranoid habit kept egging him to the Foxes’ court as well.

His survival instincts were screaming at him to leave. Mary’s death, less than a year after their escape, had showed him just how quickly Nathan’s people could find him. Everything was still too close for him to swallow his fear, even with memories of Wymack’s firm words still humming in his mind’s eye. Neil turned away from the gates. He didn’t want anything to do with Exy — _liar liar liar_ — all he wanted was a place to lay low, and a chance to live.

 

* * *

 

One evening after Neil jogged back from one of his forays onto the main complex of Palmetto State University, he quietly closed Wymack’s door behind him and moved towards the kitchen to grab a quick drink. His foosteps paused over the marble tiles when raised voices drifted down the hallway towards his suddenly tensed form. Neil listened for a moment, but couldn’t hear anything from so far away.

His curiosity sufficiently piqued, Neil abandoned the kitchen to slide silently down the hallway towards their voices. Once he reached the study he leaned against the door slightly, keeping his body fluid and light, as he started to listen in on their conversation.

“Damn it, Kevin, I said sit down!”

“I won't!” Kevin shot back. If Wymack hadn't said his name already, Neil wouldn't have recognized his voice. He didn't know it well anyway, due to avoiding all signs of human life since he’d arrived at Palmetto. Kevin's voice was twisted with fear and panic, and it made Neil alert. Only a few things could rattle a person like this. “How could you let him do this?”

“I don't have any say in this and you know it. Hey!”

There was a hard thud as bodies hit the wall. It sounded like Wymack and Kevin were knocking over everything Wymack owned.

“Look at me,” Wymack demanded. “Look at me, god damn you, and breathe.”

“I warned Andrew he was going to come for me. I told him!”

“It doesn't matter. You signed a contract with me.”

“He could pay off my scholarship in a heartbeat. You know he would. He'd pay you off and take me home and I—I can't go back there. I can't, I can't, I won't, I—I have to go. I have to go. I should go now, before he has to come for me. Maybe he'll forgive me if I go back. If I make him hunt me down any more than I have already he'll kill me for sure.”

“Shut up,” Wymack said. “You're not going anywhere.”

“I can't tell Riko no!”

“Then don't say a word,” Wymack said. “Keep your mouth shut and let me and Andrew do the talking. Yes, Andrew. Don't tell me you forgot about that psycho. I've got Betsy's number on speed dial. Want me to put you through to her office so you can talk to him? Want to tell him you're thinking about going back?”

Silence followed that. Neil waited, holding back his rising panic with a practised hand, until Wymack spoke again. He was quieter this time, but concern made his voice more gruff than comforting.

“I'm not letting you go back there,” Wymack said. “Nothing says I have to. Your contract says you belong to me. He can send us all the money he wants, but you have to sign off on it before it means anything, and you're not going to. Okay? You let me and Andrew worry about Riko fuck-face. You worry about getting your game and team where they need to be. You promised me you could get us past the fourth match this year.”

“That was before,” Kevin said, miserable. “This is now.”

“The ERC is giving us until June before they break the news. They saw how many security issues we had over your transfer, so they're waiting until everyone's here where I can keep an eye on them. I told you because you need to know, but I need you to keep it from Andrew until then. Tell me you can see Andrew today and not completely freak out.”

“Andrew will figure it out. He's not stupid.”

“Then you have to be the better liar,” Wymack said in a hard voice. “The ERC is looking for a reason to take him away from us, and you know they won't give him back. Then where will you be?”

They were quiet for so long Neil thought they might be done. Finally Kevin said, “Give me your phone.”

“If you think I'm going to let you use my phone to call him, you—”

“Jean,” Kevin cut in. “I have to call Jean. I have to hear him say it.”

Apparently that was an acceptable compromise, because Wymack stopped arguing. Neil waited for Kevin to start speaking again. When Kevin's voice strained out into the tense air, Neil blinked at the quiet French he was speaking in. So Kevin spoke the language too? Neil thought for a moment, then realised that the Ravens had a French player. He was surprised Kevin had managed it, spineless as he seemed, but ignored it for later scrutiny.

“Tell me it isn't true,” Kevin said. “Tell me he didn't.”

Neil couldn't hear the answer, but the sharp slap of the phone snapping shut again said it wasn't the one Kevin wanted. The couch creaked under someone's body weight and Neil knew Kevin was sinking onto the cushion in despair.

“Wait here,” Wymack said, and a few seconds later he stepped into the hallway. He started a little when he spotted Neil at the end of the hallway but said nothing. Neil watched as he disappeared into the kitchen. He recognized the sound of Wymack's liquor cabinet by now, the click of the lock and the soft clink of the glass doors. Wymack returned with a handle of vodka and dropped it off with Kevin.

“Drink,” he said from out of sight. “I'll be right back.”

Wymack came back to the hallway. Neil stared up at the man, face blank in a way that wasn’t forced for once, and waited for him to say something. The man sighed, drawing a hand over his face, before he motioned down the corridor in the direction of the kitchen. Neil turned and led him there, and when he paused again Wymack had already started to speak.

“How much did you h—”

“Look, I don’t care,” Neil cut in curtly. He already knew what was happening, could tell what it was the moment familiar fear seeped into Kevin’s voice as he spoke about a Riko and the things he could do to Kevin. The second heir of the Moriyamas was going after Kevin, and considering all the talk about the ERC and contracts, it was most likely through a Exy district changeover.

Wymack stared at him. “Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”

“It’s not my business,” Neil replied. “I’m not one of your players. Don’t put me in unnecessary danger.” He thought about how his mere presence brought all of the Foxes under danger, and inwardly winced at his hypocrisy. But using the guise of his assistant coach role to avoid more conversation meant he had to play it to the full.

“That’s fair,” Wymack said after a moment, letting it go with a shrug. “Just don’t tell the others. Kevin isn’t handling it very well.”

“Then shouldn’t his babysitter know the problem?” Neil asked flippantly. Wymack’s expression hardened.

“Andrew would go at it too hard, and end up being booted off the Exy league. We can’t have that happening.”

Neil tilted his head slightly, considering that. From what he had seen of the goalkeeper, there was something deep under the facade of manic cheerfulness that the pills brought. Was it uncontrollable bloodthirst, as the tabloids had made it seem? Neil’s instincts, and inherent distrust of the media and all its forms, told him otherwise.

“Well,” he said. “Whatever’s fine with me.” After that nonchalant statement, he turned and walked calmly out of the apartment. After hearing the door close behind him, Neil slid down to his knees in the empty hallway and fisted his trembling hands. He could feel his mind's walls cracking, felt the panic and stormy emotions roll out in greedy fumes.

“Fuck,” he murmured. Riko was coming to the Palmetto State’s district. That meant, as an unofficial part of the team, Neil would be coming into contact with the Moriyama heir here and there. The thought of being recognised, the thought of his father’s cold eyes pinning him down as Neil was delivered to his gaping maws, made racks of terror break through Neil’s usual composure and shake his frame.

His head was filled with loud static and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, his hands were clawing at his throat and screams were echoing in his ears and he—

There was a warm palm at the back of his neck pushing his head down. Neil let it, feeling the motion briefly break through the clouding white noise in his mind, and he drew in breath with a sharp, startled gasp. He crouched there over his legs, shaking and shivering and gasping, until the hand slid away.

“You’re more of a mess than I thought,” came a dry, amused voice above him. “Wait, scratch that, I’m forgetting what you looked like when we picked you up. Raggedy daggedy inside and out, huh?”

“Daggedy?” Neil’s voice was abruptly calm and steady again. Even though he couldn’t control the slight tremors running through his body from the aftermath of his panic attack, Neil knew how to bend his voice and mask his expression to slip into a role. “If we’re talking about messes here, I really think you take the cake, Minyard.”

The blonde Exy player rolled an unlit cigarette between his fingers, and a vapid grin spread over his face. “Ooh, cake. Yes, I quite like cake.”

“You said you wanted nothing?” Neil shot back. It was perhaps a leap in the conversation, but Neil wanted to grab at any level ground he could.

“I don’t want any cake right now, I just ate,” Andrew replied. Then the grin was gone, eyes lidded with boredom again in a change so rapid Neil almost envied it as they slid to Wymack’s door instead. The goalkeeper promptly dismissed Neil from his attention and started moving to the apartment, a lighter coming out to accompany the cigarette.

Neil didn’t think Wymack would like that. He sat there on his knees for a moment, staring after Andrew and wondering why he had bothered to help pull Neil out from his panic. Surely it wasn't just to insult his appearance? Neil pushed himself onto his legs, and gazed down at them blankly. Already stable and able to carry him smoothly down the hallway. He supposed pushing himself through panic attack after random panic attack in order to do the Butcher’s job had acclimatised his body for the ups and downs that his mind put it through. Neil couldn’t feel proud of this the same way he took pleasure in fooling others with his masks or managing to clamp down on an emotion. Being so used to fear that he could wade through it was evidence of a coward’s life.

He wondered if that was how Kevin lived, and immediately dismissed the idea of him sharing any similarities with the privileged son of Exy. Neil took a moment more to completely wipe the experience of the last five minutes out of his head, focusing on the new knowledge that Riko would be coming. He couldn’t be sure if he would be recognised, as Kevin hadn’t been able to, but Neil’s nature pushed him to make plans.

They formed like scurried blueprints in his mind as his steps carried him further away from Wymack’s small, dark apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have more Neil Being Antisocial and Ominous Riko Mentions. neil handles the news differently from canon and hes definitely going to act differently abt it folks!!  
> also wow andrew, getting handsy with ur mans only 4 chapters in?? is this true love??  
> cue them not talking again for months tbh


	5. UPDATE

unfortunately not a new chapter !!! :((  
it's on its way though, don't fret :))

aaa i think i haven't updated since last october?? i'm really sorry guys, i had most of chapter 5 written and chapter 6 on the go (ive also planned ahead a lot - but am unfortunately a slow writer), buuut life got in the way lmao.

my laptop broke in the beginning of december (let us not speak of the month in between where i could've updated but was putting it off - i'm soRRY ok), and then since all that christmas shopping jazz went down i couldn't get a new laptop delivered till like a week ago.

it works pretty well and i'm going to get working on getting new chapters out hopefully. there iS the slight problem of my laptop not charging, so i might need a replacement, which will probably take another week, but ah well. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

so yeah, that's all i wanted to say!! ty for being patient with me, and i hope you all have a lovely day <3


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